


Yuri's Kitten

by BoxWineConfessions



Series: Kittens Inspired By Kittens [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cat boy Otabek, Catboy AU, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Spanking, baby talking crazy cat man Yuri, barbed cat dick, but it feels good, crack fic disguised as smut, like a french tickler, versatile couple, witch Georgi, wtf is magic biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: “I don’t believe you’re actually a witch,”  The crystal ball plugs into the wall, and Georgi had to consult the instruction booklet for his tarot deck during the reading.Georgi leans over his crystal ball and leers at him. “I’m not the one who’s having a hard time telling my boyfriend I’m a desperate needy bottom. So just drink this,” Georgi tucks a small glass bottle with a cork stopper on the top into his palm. “And let Georgi’s love potion work it’s magic.OROtabek wants nothing more than to bottom for Yuri, but can't seem to bring himself to ask. He seeks help from the good witch Georgi, who sells him a potion that will grant him his deepest desires. Turns out the optimal way to get Yuri to fuck him, is to become a needy cat boy in the throes of heat.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voslen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voslen/gifts), [CalamityK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityK/gifts), [notsoaverageday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsoaverageday/gifts).
  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [O Gatinho de Yuri](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669305) by [vanillalil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalil/pseuds/vanillalil)



“I don’t believe you’re actually a witch,” Otabek looks Georgi up and down. He’s dressed head to toe in crushed purple velvet. His evenly applied wingtip eyeliner looks like it’s pulled straight from this month’s Vogue. The crystal ball plugs into the wall, and Georgi had to consult the instruction booklet for his tarot deck during the reading.

Despite all of these red flags, Otabek is nothing short of desperate.

“Look,” Georgi looks up at him from his tube of lipstick. He’s been reapplying it for what feels like minutes, although it could easily just be because being here makes his skin crawl. There’s dark purple shag carpeting that drags against his boots. No matter how he positions his body, Otabek seems to sink into the large overstuffed chair. If Georgi was histrionic on ice, he was terror inducing in his side job. His makeup was somehow darker, more dramatic. He wore a one piece royal purple velvet jump suit that revealed far too much. It was cut low on his chest, tight around his ass, and Otabek could see his...area…in gruesome detail when he rose from the table to procure a small little vial.

Georgi leans over his crystal ball and leers at him. “I’m not the one who’s having a hard time telling my boyfriend I’m a desperate needy bottom. So just drink this,” Georgi tucks a small glass bottle with a cork stopper on the top into his palm. “And let Georgi’s love potion work it’s magic. But work fast, it wears off after a few hours. ” Georgi’s brow furrow and his face pulls tight, as if he’d forgotten something.

“By the way, I prefer the term “mystic,”’ Georgi corrects. “And pay up. I need go to Sephora before they close.”

“You just told me you were banned for life for “causing a scene.’”

“I’m a champion skater, professional mystic, and,” Georgi throws a shawl from the back of the chair over his shoulder. “Master of disguise.”

Otabek can feel the bile rise in his throat. He needs to get out of here. Begrudgingly, he pays Georgi with the last of the Russian rubles in his wallet.

* * *

 

Otabek downs the bottle as soon as he gets home. Despite Georgi’s vague explanation, he’s not sure how this is supposed to help with anything. It seems strange that ingesting such a small amount of liquid would help him overcome the intense anxiety he had around asking his boyfriend to top.

The liquid is thick, and too sweet. Upon finishing it, Otabek notes that he feels quite drowsy. It must be because Yuri is staying with him. Yuri always keeps him up at night tossing and turning and forgetting to turn the sound off on his phone.

Otabek checks his phone. He’d done an intense series of off-ice and on ice sessions yesterday, and so his coach told him it was okay to take most of the afternoon off today. Yuri is seeing his tutor until seven. A nap would be permissible now.

Otabek’s sleep is fitful and restless. He likes to keep the apartment a little bit cool so that he can burrow underneath the blankets any time of year. For whatever reason, the apartment feels stifling. Otabek flings the thick duvet away from his body, and then the sheets. He strips down to his underwear in fitful, half-awake, half asleep moments before turning over and trying to sleep.

* * *

 

When he finally feels comfortable, he’s woken up by the sound of Yuri’s voice. “Oh my god Beka.” Otabek’s eyes flutter open to the sight of Yuri standing over him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “What happened to you?” Otabek flicks his tail back and forth angrily at Yuri. What happened was this...He’d been overworking himself, and was finally taking time to rest. Now that he finally chose to do so, his body was too hot, and too tight. To make matters worse, Yuri wouldn’t let him rest--

Wait. Otabek sits up with a start and gropes blindly, so that he can confirm what his body has already revealed. Before him is a thick, black, fluffy...Tail? Otabek takes the new appendage into his hand. It flips back and forth not on it’s own volition, but with his mood.

“You have ears too,” Yuri says. He’s biting his bottom lip hard to hold back a coo, or a laugh, or both. “You’re so fucking cute.” Otabek would say the same about Yuri, and pull him close and kiss him until they were breathless. Otabek would forget all about this bottoming nonsense and fuck Yuri until he couldn’t walk straight. That’s how cute his boyfriend looks right now.

It doesn’t help that Otabek feels turned on just by having Yuri here. Otabek’s heart pounds in his chest, but he doesn’t feel anxiety about the newfound appendage. In fact, the only fraction of a coherent thought he can think of right now is cock. He can’t shake the mental image of Yuri smirking and pressing into him roughly. There’s also the thought of Otabek pushing Yuri onto the bed, climbing on top, and riding him until his thighs burned and ached like he’d been doing leg presses for hours.

Otabek tries to abate the warm-tingle-fuck me now feeling that pools in his stomach and in his crotch. He tries to close his eyes and think calmly and clearly, and not succumb to the need that tunnels his vision. Georgi said that they needed to work fast. This wouldn’t last for very long.

Before he knows what’s going on, Yuri is in bed beside him, and bathing him with the kind of gentle and affectionate touche he’s dreamed of in their relationship for so long. Yuri rubs one jet black colored ear, and then the other. In no time, Otabek is purring.

“You like that huh, Kitten?”

Yeah,” Otabek confesses. “Aren’t you worried it’s permanent?”

Yuri scratches lightly against his ears, and then applies more pressure. It’s not just good. Otabek can feel himself grow half hard from Yuri’s attention. “Honestly,” there’s the slight smack of guilt in Yuri’s voice. “I know you wouldn’t like it, but I-”

“I get it,” Otabek huffs. However, it’s hard to be angry. The potion is having the intended effect.

“How did this happen? Huh, kitty Beka?”

“I bought a love potion from Georgi.”

Yuri snorts. “Wait, so he really is a witch?”

“Mystic,” Otabek responds in a dry and disinterested tone.

“Either way,” Yuri responds, “Remind me to thank that washed up hag. This might be the best thing that has ever happened to me.” As reluctant as Otabek is to interact with Georgi again outside of the rink, he echoes the sentiment.

Yuri leans into kiss him. Yuri parts Otabek’s mouth with his tongue soft and gentle. They breathe into one another like they’re sharing their first kiss once again in Helsinki. Not once do Yuri’s fingers leave his ears. Yuri manipulates them expertly, and press against the skin just right so that the sensation crawls warm and electric from his ears down his spine, and rests nicely at the base of his tail.

Yuri pulls away from him. His eyes are half lidded. He rests his forehead against Otabek’s so that they're looking deep into one another’s eyes. “Your tongue is rough.”

Otabek’s tail hits back and cross the bed in flat little thumping noises. He can feel his chest tighten and his face flush. That has to be off putting, right?

“Beka,” Yuri grabs the end of his tail firmly. Where the attention on his ears drifted down his spine and rested at the base of his tail, the attention to his tail goes straight to his dick. “Stop overthinking it. I like it.”

Otabek closes the distance between them again. They bump noses before finding each other once more. Yuri laps at his closed lips, and Otabek accepts him. Yuri prods against his tongue softly and explores Otabek’s mouth. How long? How long has he wanted Yuri to handle him with such care? How long has he been unable to truly say how feels? How can Georgi’s little potion bring out this kindness and gentleness and molasses sweet slowness in Yuri?

He buries his hands into Yuri’s shirt, and it’s only then that he realize his nails are much sharper and much longer. They dig into the fabric, and press against the soft skin of Yuri’s chest. He needs Yuri. He needs Yuri now, but he also wants to hold onto this tenderness for forever.

“Claws too?” Yuri’s words are slurred as if he’s sleepy, or drunk, or already so addled with lust just because of kissing. “You’re such the perfect kitty Beka.” In a gesture that Otabek would’ve found patronizing hours before, Yuri pats at the crown of his head. “Such a pretty kitty.” Yuri’s words borderline on baby talk, and yet Otabek’s chest keeps rumbling. He keeps purring with his whole body.

“Ba-by,” Yuri coos at him like he’s one of the many precious, fleabitten kittens with milky eyes that Yuri picks up on his walks back from the market. Yuri talks to him like he’s the kind of small and fragile thing that needs to be fed milk until old enough to take ot the shelter. The tone that Yuri uses makes Otabek chuckles into Yuri’s chest. His voice is still gruff and ready to spill out obscenities, but it’s also impossibly soft. “Watch my shirt,” Yuri warns.

Otabek tries to disentangle his claws from the fabric, but it snags. Otabek watches with horror as he snags against the shirt that upon closer inspection bears a burberry insignia. “I can’t help myself?” A plum colored blush spreads across Otabek’s cheeks as he buries his nails deeper into the fabric and kneads the firm muscle of Yuri’s chest.

“You’re going to kill me, Beka. You’re so fucking cute.” Yuri’s hands return to Otabek’s hairline, and he rubs against the ears aggressively. Then, Yuri moves so that he’s sitting between Otabek’s legs, and all but pulling the other man into his lap. Yuri rubs at the base of Otabek’s tail which barely sticks out over the waistband of his underwear. Yuri is usually so aggressive with his body. He bites until his skin is red. He sucks until there are ugly and patchy bruises. Now? Yuri nips at Otabek’s neck, but does it gently. The touch is caress soft.

“Ah Yuri, that’s so good. The tail…” Otabek refuses to refer to it as his. “Harder?”

So Yuri complies. He squeezes the base of Otabek’s tail harder. “Beka, are you the kind of kitty that likes pats?”

“Pats?” Otabek furrows his brow in confusion.

Yuri removes his hand from the base of his tail. “You know,” Yuri laughs, and covers his smile with his sleeve. “Butt pats.”

Otabek tries to let the words sink in. Instead, he just mouthes them back to Yuri with a slack jaw.

“We should try.”

Automatically, as if on instinct, Otabek gets on his knees goes down on all fours. He presents himself fully to Yuri, and tosses his ears against the mattress. It would be the perfect position for Yuri to enter him from behind…

Immediately, Yuri starts patting the skin on the small of his back just above the tail. What would be obnoxious or downright off-putting is absolutely addictive. Yuri has possessed a certain level of intimate knowledge about his body for some time now. Otabek feels as if he should feel unease or discomfort at the way Yuri seems so so naturally know what to do with his body since it’s changed. He doesn’t. In fact, it might be the only thing that's keeping him grounded. It might be the only thing that’s keeping him from ripping Yuri’s clothes off and riding him right now.

An undignified, warbled moan comes from his mouth, “Meow.”

Yuri snorts. “Otabek. You sound so gruff and angry when you meow.”

“Yuri,” Otabek whines.

“You do like pats though,” Yuri moves his hand from the base of Otabek’s tail to the firm muscle of his ass and swats lightly. “Don’t you?” Yuri eases his underwear down his legs, and Otabek is left exposed.

Like is an understatement. Yuri’s hands sting on his flesh, but immediately he wants more. “Yuri,” which is followed by more undignified whining noises, and meowing noises, and during all of it, he can’t stop purring. “Please.” And despite the fact that he begs, please, he slides around the mattress as if he has an itch that cannot be scratched.

“Yuri, that feels so good,” but his body betrays his words. He digs his claws into the mattress and drags himself across the mattress, further away from Yuri’s touch.

“Is it good baby?” Yuri asks. “Kitten, you want it harder?”

Otabek simply meows in response.

Yuri raises his hand. Otabek hears they heavy smacking sound of Yuri’s hand against his skin before he feels the red hot feeling radiate around Yuri’s hand. Then, comes the slow delicious sting that was only hinted at in Yuri’s lighter swats.

Otabek moans into the duvet. He swats his tail against Yuri.

“Good huh?”

“Really good.”

Yuri gives him a few more slaps in rapid succession. The sound of his hand hitting skin is sharp and off tempo. Yuri makes sure to vary the speed and intensity of his slaps. He makes sure to never hit the exact same patch of flesh twice in a row.

Soon, he’s grinding into Yuri’s lap, and begging. “Yuri please. Yuri take me. Yuri please..”

“Otabek,” There’s a rough hand at the base of his tail again pulling lightly. “My Kazakh isn’t that good. Tell me in Russian.”

Otabek meows, purrs, and sits up. He laps at Yuri’s neck and purrs. “Fuck me Yuri.”

“Beka?” Yuri tilts his chin and scratches at it lightly. That too makes him blush, and purr, and feel so good. “Are you in heat?”

“Male animals don’t,”Otabek bites the bottom of his lip and interrupts himself with soft little moans. “Go into heat Yuri,” Otabek insists.

As if to counter his point, Yuri tugs lightly again at the base of his tail. Otabek cants his ass upward and lets out another louder and undignified mewl.

“Uh, huh,” Yuri raises an eyebrow. He grabs for Otabek’s cock and gives him a few slow, light pumps. Immediately Otabek rocks into his hand, and wants to have more, and feel more. Yuri tests the weight of his balls. Presses against his perineum, and circles his hole with a single digit. “You’re wet here.” Yuri says in a dry tone.

“Wet?” The word slides out in a muddled mixture of arousal and embarrassment.

“Like a….”

“Don’t say it.”

“Pussy,” Yuri chuckles darkly and lets his finger slide into the first knuckle.

“Yuri, please.” Otabek gasps.

“You did this?” Yuri crooks his fingers just right, and Otabek can feel the duvet shred underneath his touch. If a finger causes this kind of reaction, what would Yuri’s cock do? “For me?” Yuri slides in another finger easily.

Even after several months of dating, Yuri always feels so tight. Otabek has to take extra time to work him open despite Yuri’s insistence. The few times he has succumbed to passion; and hasn’t tended to Yuri extensively, Yuri’s been sore the next day. Yuri enters him so easily. What has the potion done to his body? Will he still feel good for Yuri?” Threads of anxiety cause him to wail in a tone that’s too high pitched and tinged with need to be his own.

“Beka,” Yuri runs a soothing hand down his back and scratches the fur at the base of his tail until he’s purring. “Baby kitty, it’s okay. I’m here. Okay?” Yuri scissors his fingers apart, and keeps baby talking Otabek.

At this point the flush of arousal and embarrassment feel permanently tattooed to his skin. So he just drinks in the openness and the praise from Yuri. “So good for me. So ready for me. And Otabek?”

Yuri must sense that his body is relaxed, because he slides in a third finger with minimal resistance. “Not that I don’t fucking love it. Cause I do, but I would’ve nailed you without it. Been thinking about it for a long time.”

“Yuri,” Otabek presses back against his boyfriend’s fingers. “I’m ready.”

“I think you’re right.” Yuri extracts his fingers slowly, and Otabek whines when he’s confronted with the feeling of being empty again. Then Yuri leaves his side to get condoms and lube. Otabek moves on the bed and claws at Yuri’s jeans to keep him from going too far.

“I’ll be right back Beka.” Yuri cups his chin and kisses him softly. Yuri tosses him a foil wrapped condom. On instinct, and without explanation as to why, Otabek reaches for it. Otabek doesn’t so much grab it as he bats it away and it is launched across the bed. Otabek rears up on his knees, wriggles his butt, flicks his tail, and pounces at the condom.

“I can’t fucking stand how cute you are Beka,” Yuri laughs. “You have to let me take pictures.” Yuri stumbles out of his clothes awkwardly. He refuses to break eye contact with Otabek even for a moment.

“Be fast about it,” Otabek grunts. “Need you.”

“Right.”

Yuri gets a photo of him playing with the wrapped condom. He takes a picture of him tousling Otabek’s ears. Gets a good one of Otabek hanging onto his tail and trying his hardest not to pounce on it. All the while the electronic shutter noise rings in his ear. The tone is annoying, and he can feel his ears flit in discomfort with each sound.

“Alright,” Yuri places his phone on the nightstand and wrestles the condom from Otabek’s grasp. Carefully, he unwraps it and rolls it down his cock.

The sight of it makes Otabek’s mouth go dry.

“Does kitty want it doggy style?”

“You’re always teasing me,” Otabek grunts. “About ridiculous lines,” regardless, he turns back over onto his stomach.

“Arch your back,” Yuri taps on his hips. “There.” Otabek can feel the tip of Yuri’s cock against his hole and he rocks into it, unable to wait a second longer. “You’re really fucking eager huh?” Yuri pushes in slowly, and Otabek can feel his eyes roll back into the back of his head. He can feel his claws sink into the already damaged duvet. He can fill Yuri fill him up, just perfectly. His cock is more satisfying than fingers alone. His cock isn’t too big, and doesn’t hurt at all.

The flick of Otabek’s tail is the only movement between them. Yuri seems to be paralyzed. Otabek wonders if Yuri is still due to that wonderful and overwhelming moment that happens when it feels so good, but it needs to last.

“Let me know” Yuri pets against dark black fur. “If I’m hurting you at all. Okay?”

“Feels-so-good,” Otabek moans in response. “More,” he demands in a tone that’s slurred and drunken with lust.

“That’s fucking rich,” Yuri slaps his ass and grabs his skin as he pounds in harder. “You always fucking tease me Otabek. Now you need me?” Yuri pulls almost all the way out and slams back in. The motion pulls a loud and feral growl from deep within Otabek. “Need me to go harder?” Yuri continues to brutally slam into Otabek’s body, and Otabek accepts Yuri each time, meets him thrust for thrust because he’s wanted this so badly.

Yuri reaches around and takes Otabek’s cock into his hand. He gives him long rough strokes that make him see stars when he closes his eyes. “Oh wow,” Yuri mumbles into his shoulder. “Does it feel as good?”

Otabek had wanted to say something like, “better than I imagined,” but the best he can stammer out in response is, “so good.” He begs in time with the thrust of Yuri’s hand, “Yuri. Meow. Yura,” begging in one word and in so many ways that he desperately wants to come.

Yuri, being so wonderful, and so good to him, and so in tune with his own desires, understands this. He pays special attention to the head of his cock and pumps him until he’s spilling all over the sheets, and meowing loud enough that the neighbors will surely hear.

Yuri continues to pound into him until Otabek can feel his cock twitch deep within. He wishes Yuri hadn’t had the foresight to grab a condom. He wishes he could feel Yuri come inside. 

* * *

 

“What happened to your hand?” Otabek asks after Yuri has discarded the condom and returns to bed. Yuri has spent the last few minutes lavishing him with attention. Petting his ears, touching his tail, and rubbing up underneath his chin.

Otabek can’t help but notice that Yuri’s palm is blush pink, as if he’d left it under hot water for just a moment too long.

“Dumbass,” Yuri snorts. “Look at your cock.”

Otabek turns onto his back and takes his cock into his hands. His eyes go wide. The potion didn’t just add ears, a tail, and heat that made no sense at all biologically. His cock was the same size, but no longer the same shape. Little coarse barbs of flesh stuck out from around the head of his cock like a crown of barbs. Otabek wonders if it feels similar to his rough tongue, or if it hurts. Yuri’s hand certainly looks irritated.

As if on cue Yuri husks into his ear, deep and needy. The baby-talk voice is gone. “Gonna need you to fuck me with it. Before the potion wears off.”

“Don’t you think it will hurt?” Usually it’s Yuri who has the lightening fast refractory period, but Otabek can already feel his cock twitch with interest. He’d already resigned himself to accept the fact that Yuri was correct. He was in heat. For just the moment, he embraced the fact that he needed, and needed, and needed.

“It’ll feel like that French tickler Chris gave us, but better.”

Otabek feels his face somehow flush hotter. They’d been in Turin for the European Championship. As often happens when want time alone with one another, Otabek and Yuri ended up with all of the male skaters at the event, most of the women, and a few people from pairs. Chris held several black shopping bags underneath his arms when he joined the group. After it was Otabek’s turn to treat everyone to a round of drinks, Chris opened his little bag, and procured gifts for all.

Some had textures, other exotic colors, others still exotic flavors. Yuri’s was supposed to be black currant flavored, but he made a big show of tossing it into the rubbish bin outside the bar. Otabek’s was textured. Otabek secretly kept his, and didn’t tell Yuri until they made it back to the hotel room.

“You think?” But Yuri’s laying next to him and playing with his cock. Yuri once told him that he loved feeling Otabek get hard in his grasp. Yuri loved playing with him and toying with him until he was dripping and straining.

Otabek watches with rapt fascination as Yuri does just that. Yuri works his fist up and down his shaft, stopping before the barbs around the head. Then, he runs the tip of his finger over the ridge of Otabek’s cock touching them lightly.

“Like I know this whole thing was about me fucking you but...Beka I’ll fuck you any time.”

“What if it hurts you?” Otabek furrows his brow and interrupts his own line of thinking. He knows how overzealous Yuri can get when they’re in the heat of the moment. “If I think it’s hurting you, it stops.”

“It’ll be fine,” Yuri grins. At that he’s leaning over and pumping more lube onto his fingers.

“You don’t want me to?”

Yuri snorts. “I’m more worried about the claws that ruined my clothes and the duvet than I am your new dick.”

“Good point,” Otabek responds sheepishly. “Use lots of lube?”

“Of course,” Yuri hums. “Just relax and enjoy the show, kitten.”

So Otabek does. Yuri’s cock is still soft, having finished just minutes before. However, Otabek knows that Yuri’s refractory period is impossibly small. Yuri kneels on the bed, just over Otabek’s shins. Yuri probably thinks he’s going to turn around and ride him in this position. Yuri might be wrong.

Yuri circles his hole briefly, and sinks a finger into his knuckle immediately. Yuri is always too fast with his own body. He’s seen him impale himself on toys with minimum prep, and then watched him sweat, and curse, and have tears stream down his cheeks as a result.

Although Otabek finds it difficult to be this rough with Yuri’s body, finds it hard to give Yuri what he wants right away, he certainly enjoys seeing Yuri do it to himself.

Yuri sinks down onto a second finger and groans. Otabek has taken him so many times before, and yet he’s still so tight and so sensitive. It makes Otabek growl low in response.

“You’re hissing,” Yuri looks over his shoulder. His hair falls just right, his expression is serene despite having two fingers knuckle deep inside. He looks like a made over model in one of the glossy magazines that Yuri’s always looking at in airport terminals.

“Am not,” but Otabek immediately bites down on his lower lip in order to prevent further noises from escaping.

“Make sure to fucking touch yourself, yeah?” It’s a question, but Otabek knows it’s a statement. “You need to fucking feel that thing.”

Otabek wraps his hand around his cock and moves in motions that are similar to Yuri’s. First, he thrusts into his hand, and stops just above the barbs. Then, he moves his hands over them. The texture is rough. His hand drags over his skin slowly from friction. He assumes that it feels like his rough tongue.

It doesn’t take much effort to bring himself to full hardness while watching Yuri.

Yuri scissors himself aggressively. Slowly, but surely he begins to moan into his own touch. This shift signifies that Yuri isn’t just going through the motions anymore. He’s getting hard; he’s getting needy.

“Need you Kitty.” Yuri says over his shoulder. He bites his lip as if to punctuate the statement.

“Okay,” Otabek sits up, pushes Yuri forward so that he rests on all fours, and grabs onto his hips.

“Eager now huh?”

“It’s hard not to touch you,” Otabek’s already grabbing himself by the base and rolling a condom down over his cock.

“One thing Beka.”

Otabek stops abruptly. He’s grasping himself by the base and pressing into Yuri.

“Don’t be afraid about the claws?”

Otabek can feel his jaw drop and his eyes go wide.

“I mean, I didn’t want them in my ass, but…” Yuri wriggles against his cock. “My hips. Grab my hips.”

This he understands. Yuri loves leaving big purple red marks on his neck and his shoulder. Yuri rakes his nails down his back. He’s seen Yuri look at the thumbprint shaped bruises on his hips and his ass in hotel mirrors before.

Otabek grabs Yuri’s hip, pulls him forward, and pushes in slowly.

“Fu-uck,” Yuri groans into the mattress. “Beka, fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.”

“Getting there Yura,” and for good measure, Otabek digs into Yuri’s soft skin with his nails.

“What a good kitty,” Yuri groaned. It’s the same form of baby talk from earlier, but lacks the patronizing sting. “Fucking me with his cock.”

“Yura,” Otabek keeps one hand on Yuri’s hips, and sinks his claws into Yuri’s shoulder. “How does it feel?” By now he’s buried into the hilt. Yuri’s tightness and pressure are familiar, but the animalistic magic makes everything feels accented and heightened. It feels like he’s fucking Yuri for the first time. It feels like he’s relearning everything he knows with ever uneven and uncertain motion of his body.

“Ah-,” It’s Yuri’s turn to make strangled little mewling noises. “Really fucking good. Makes you feel bigger. Makes everything feel so much more sensitive.

“You-Ah” Otabek interrupts himself, sinks in deeper, marvels at the way Yuri’s hole looks when he’s stretched tight by his cock. “Feel even tighter,”

“You feel-” But Yuri doesn’t get to finish the statement. He makes more wonderful little noises that signify that he’s touching Yuri just right from inside. As much as he wants to know how his cock feels, he doesn’t want to interrupt those beautiful little noises.

Otabek makes sure to give Yuri everything that he likes. Brutally hard strokes coupled with loving little gestures like soft kisses to the back of his shoulders, his neck, and his cheeks. Otabek’s hands are everywhere. Otabek rakes his claws across Yuri’s back and adds new angry, red little marks to the existing ones down his back. Yuri said not to hold back, but Otabek feels guilt about the mere idea of breaking skin.

Still, with each thrust, with each moan, and every single time their eyes meet and Yuri looks at him with love and lust it’s harder and harder for him to contain his passion. He digs his fingers into the flesh of his ass, “Yuri-I,” and the world around him goes dark. The animal inside takes over. He wants to rip off the condom and come deep inside Yuri. All sorts of words and associations swirl in his mind, “mate-protect-litter.”

Otabek dare not remove his hands from Yuri’s hips. He wants to hold him firm and make sure that he spills ever bit of his seed inside. Condom be damned. He doesn’t trust himself to manage his sharp claws and jerk Yuri to completion properly.

Otabek’s ears twitch in response to the soft gentle sound of Yuri’s hand against his cock and the sharp uneven breaths that he makes. Yuri spills into hand. Yuri raises his arm, and rests it against Otabek’s shoulder. The palm of his hand rests against Otabek’s lips. Yuri’s hand is wet with come. “Drink your milk kitten.”

* * *

 

Georgi’s phone starts ringing in Lush, and doesn’t stop ringing. He considers turning of the ringer, but that seems to be in bad form since the caller is Yuri, and Georgi sold Otabek the potion earlier in the day.

“Hey, pervert witch asshole, I need more of that potion. I wanna make Otabek a cat all the time.”

Georgi closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “It’s not a cat potion Yuri.” Georgi tries to hide the smirk on his face from manifesting in his voice. That certainly was a new and unique manifestation of the potion.

“I don’t give a fuck. I want more.”

Georgi throws a half dozen additional bath bombs into his basket. Otabek didn’t haggle on the potion price, being inexperienced with these kinds of things. It would also appear that he had two new lifelong customers.

“It only gives the person that drinks it what they want most….Sexually.” Georgi grabs several massage bars too. The ladies love it. “Within certain boundaries of course, it has to be consensual, and-”

“I don’t give a fuck. I want more potion” Georgi can hear the sound of something hitting the wall. He can only assume it’s Yuri’s phone. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears Yuri’s infuriated, but muted voice in the distance. “No, I didn’t ask if he had any magical-ass ointment for these scratches. That’s even more fucking embarrassing.”

Georgi mentally goes through the list of ingredients needed for a healing potion. Chamomile, pickled lavender blossoms, enchanted eucalyptus...that wasn’t going to be cheap. 


End file.
